


Savage in Some Cause

by rubychan05



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, M/M, Revenge, Surprise Ending, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubychan05/pseuds/rubychan05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His head hurts. He’s still bleeding where the baseball bat caught him across the back of his skull, a steady trickle of red that drips down his back and makes him squirm uncomfortably at the feeling. Bit not good. Should probably get that checked when he gets out of here. Head wounds always have the potential to get a bit tricky, and he’s seen enough of them to know first hand what the consequences can be. Hematoma. Brain damage. Death, if it’s serious enough. </p><p>He’s not going to die like this. He’s been through far too much for it all to end here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Savage in Some Cause

When he wakes up to find himself strapped to a chair, semtex vest firmly in place, he can’t help the incredulous giggle that escapes him. Of course. How could he not have seen this coming? After all those victims, all those frightened voices echoing poisonous words, was there really ever going to be another ending to this?

His head hurts. He’s still bleeding where the baseball bat caught him across the back of his skull, a steady trickle of red that drips down his back and makes him squirm uncomfortably at the feeling. Bit not good. Should probably get that checked when he gets out of here. Head wounds always have the potential to get a bit tricky, and he’s seen enough of them to know first hand what the consequences can be. Hematoma. Brain damage. Death, if it’s serious enough.

He’s not going to die like this. He’s been through far too much shit for it all to end here.

A door squeaks open somewhere in the building (and he doesn’t even know where he is, how’s he meant to formulate an escape plan without basic data?), and footsteps echo along the corridor, getting closer and closer with every step. He tenses, bound hands furiously working at the rope, eyes darting round the room as he looks for an advantage, any advantage, something he can exploit in order to get out of here.

Nothing. His kidnapper’s smart, has planned ahead. The room’s empty except for him, bare of anything that could serve as some sort of weapon or distraction.

He swears loudly, and freezes at the cold chuckle from the doorway.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. Is our décor not to your liking?” The voice is mocking, cruel, and his stomach twists at the absolute lack of empathy in it.

“No, no.” He deadpans, glaring defiantly up at his captor. “I was just thinking how fetching it was. I’ll have to recommend your decorator to my landlady.”

He watches lips twist in fake amusement and suddenly his world is on fire, agony ripping through him and rendering him temporarily blind. He screams, writhing in his chair, desperately trying to twist away from the source of the pain and failing miserably. It’s not until the burning dies down to a throbbing bite, and his vision clears, that he realises the bastard’s slammed a knife into his leg.

“If you can make jokes like that, you’re obviously enjoying yourself far too much.”

“What can I say…I’ve always found humour…to be…a wonderful defence mechanism.” He chokes out. The words feel thick in his mouth, a faint coppery taste to them. Wonderful.

His kidnapper pauses, a vaguely contemplative weight to his silence.

“Yes…I could imagine that.”

The blade that’s been lovingly caressing his cheek suddenly jerks, leaving a fiery trail in its wake. Blood streams down his face, and he coughs helplessly as some of it slips into his mouth. That’s going to scar.

“Do you really…think…you’re going to get away with this? They’ll find you…hunt you down…is it worth it?” He pants, arching back as the knife returns to trace over his Adam’s apple.

“Oh, it’s worth it.” Sherlock hisses, eyes flashing as he leans closer. “I’ve been dreaming about this moment for weeks…months, even. I have spent every second of every day imagining how it would feel to plunge my knife into your flesh, to twist the blade and hear you scream. I want to rip you apart with my bare hands, grasp your heart in my fist and squeeze until it stops beating. I want you to suffer.”

He grins, the expression feral and unnatural on his face. Moriarty flinches despite himself, heart beginning to race as he recognises the look in Sherlock’s eyes.

It’s the look of a man who has nothing to lose.

“Just what would your precious John say if he was here, hmm?” He sneers, crying out as Sherlock grabs his leg and wrenches it around, expertly tearing the ligaments.

“John Watson is dead. You killed him. And now you’re going to wish you’d died instead.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from William James: 'we are all ready to be savage in some cause. The difference between a good man and a bad one is the choice of the cause.'
> 
> Written for the prompt 'dark'.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr under [rubychan05](http://rubychan05.tumblr.com/).


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